


15th September, 1916

by DaWolfyDaWolf



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Heavy Angst, Major Character Injury, Trauma, World War I, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaWolfyDaWolf/pseuds/DaWolfyDaWolf
Summary: There was once four brothers, three went to war, two came back and one was left behind.____________________World War One AUREAD THE NOTES!
Relationships: platonic - Relationship
Comments: 13
Kudos: 145





	15th September, 1916

**Author's Note:**

> DARK THEMES OF VIOLENCE/GORE/BLOOD, MENTAL ILLNESS, PTSD AND DEATH.
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU SUFFER FROM TRIGGERS WITH MENTIONED THEMES, CONTINUE AT OWN RISK!

**1903**

The boy didn’t mean to lose his mother, but a couple steps away from her loving eyes and into the busy crowds of the town, a group of rushing neighbourhood’s juveniles had pushed the five-year-old to the other side of the street. Where he moved to the pavement and sat waiting for his mother like the obedient child he had been taught to be. 

Smoke of cars filled the street, the distant nicker of a well groomed horse and echoes of conversation from the markets around the boy were calming. Quietly reminding him of the home he left across the pond, where cars were constantly being developed and every July they celebrated a contradicting independence. 

Moving to Britain, the heart of an empire, had been an opportunity that the boy’s father could not miss, as it would put more wealth into his family’s pockets. After barely a week of consideration, the whole family moved, all four of them, the boy, the boy’s older brother and his parents.

“Are you lost?” a whiny voice came from behind him, startling the boy. Spinning around, he saw two boys standing on the pavement behind him, an older looking one with dirt covered blond hair and one who had wavy greasy brown curls.

“Yes, I am, but my mother will find me soon,” the boy replied, his blue grey hastily flicking back to the busy street. A clambering of worn shoes knocking on the stone pavement came from behind him and suddenly both boys were sitting either side of him.

“We’re gonna wai’ with you,” stated the blond boy, stretching his legs in front of him and giving the American boy a cheeky grin. “So what’s your name?”

Taking a second, he replied, “Techno Blade.”

“That’s an odd name!” a laugh came from his right, the brown hair boy’s body shaking with joy. Earning this reaction quite a lot, Techno just shrugged and continued to look away.

“My parents liked it so they chose it,” he said, not wanting to discuss his name anymore than he had to.

Reaching over Techno’s head, the blond boy smacked the other boy’s head, who yelped and began to yell at the attacker but was cut off, “I’m Phil, this deranged git is Wilbur.”

“He does seem deranged,” Techno joked, ignoring Wilbur protests and gaining a laugh from Phil.

It took Techno’s mother fifteen minutes to find her son, but by then he was laughing loudly with his two new friends. 

**1908**

“Did you have to bring your brother, Wilbur?” Techno complained, kicking a pebble away from the path and into the field they were messing around next to, the ten-year-old’s brown hair ruffling loudly into his in the strong breeze.

Wilbur spun around to Techno. “He’s your brother too!”

“What?” Techno asked in confusion, clearly mishearing his friend’s voice through the wind. “We’re not related.”

“Please, you're at Wilbur’s house more than your own,” Phil snorted at Techno, before laughing harder at Tommy tripping over himself, who ran ahead of the older boys.

Techno walking slowed, drowning in his own thoughts, letting the other two walk past him and continue their conversation. He had a brother, but he didn't truly see him often enough to form a bond as he is often working with his father. Sometimes he mourned the relationship he could have had. His eyes looked across the field, still deep in thought.

“Techno!” He turned, to see Wilbur, Phil and Tommy looking back at him and waiting.

Smiling, he ran to catch up, calling back, “Sorry!”

So he and his brothers carried on walking forward.

**1910**

“Techno Blade, when you said your family was wealthy, I was expecting a semi-large house with a car, not a bloody forest!” Wilbur screeched in a broken prepubescent fourteen-year-old voice, punching Techno in the arm lightly.

Techno chuckled, “Should I have mentioned this to you?”

“I would have preferred it!” 

Passing a cluster of boulders, they jumped over a creek and tiptoed into a deeper part of a forest. Leading them, Techno examined the surroundings, noticing familiar natural landmarks and vegetation.

From the back, Phil called out, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“A secret place,” Techno replied suspiciously, making Wilbur look back at Phil with a confused look, which he graciously returned. 

The trio walked for ten minutes, talking about the girl Phil fancied, how Techno had moved up to Wilbur’s year and was still the smartest student, Wilbur’s forever improving music skills, and Tommy getting in trouble constantly.

Eventually, they arrived at a clearing. On the edges, a wall of green created by the vines that hung overhead. Light slid through the gaps of leaves, creating a colourful flooring against the fallen tree branches. To one side, large rocks leant against a tree, shaped to make way for the boulders, and one particularly big chunk made itself a natural sitting place.

“This is pretty,” Wilbur murmured to the other two, taking a step into clearing and examining the flowers growing in patches next to the trees.

“I wanted to show you guys,” Techno enlightened, moving to sit on the boulder. “In case we all needed to meet up in the future.” A smile appeared on his lips as he noticed the fond expressions on both of his brothers’ faces.

Phil decided to ruin the moment, a pitching in,“Can I show Tommy?”

“Absolutely not!” Wilbur and Techno both yelled, waving angry fingers at their friend.

The trio had arrived at the clearing in the morning, they left hungry in the afternoon.

**1914**

Archduke Franz Ferdinand, a man whose assassination kicked of a war that killed over twenty million men, women and children, introduced the drafting of over twenty-five thousand men. Amongst those new soldiers was the oldest of the trio.

“You’re being drafted?” Wilbur’s voice shook as he asked, his tired eyes widening with shock. The three were in the clearing like they always were when they needed to talk, sitting lazily on the dying leaves. 

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, Wil, he’s nineteen.” Techno had chosen a seat next to the large boulder, spinning a shimmying switchblade in between his fingers, it had been a sixteenth birthday present from Phil. He was staring at the blade, his normally straight posture slanted against itself.

Wilbur’s eyes flared with anger. “Sorry Techno, guess we all can’t be as smart as you.”

The knife in Techno’s hand slipped from his grasp and onto the floor, cutting his index finger on the way down and causing him to suck in air through his teeth

“Yes, Wil, I am,” Phil replied sadly, shifting himself to look at his friend, offering him a smile, which was replied with tears.

“I don’t want you to go,” a croak came from Wilbur, his brown eyes full of despair.

Phil didn’t know what to do, so he continued to sit amongst the dying leaves and watched a crow fly through the branches. The sound of metal on stone came from his right, from where Techno was leaning over the boulder, his back to the others.

“My mother is sending me to Command School,” said Techno, continuing to make that god awful noise. 

It was the other two’s turns to be surprised, their mouths opening in shock, both standing up from their places. Too shocked to ask what he was doing.

“You’re not even eighteen yet!” Wilbur yelled.

Techno shrugged. “A bunch of boys in our year are going.”

“That doesn’ mean _you_ have to!” argued Phil, striding over to Techno. 

Still making the awful scraping sound, Techno continued, “My mother has decreed it so, there’s nothing I can do.”

“You’re from America! Surely that means you can get a free pass,” Wilbur reasoned. Clearly having enough, Techno spun around and glared at him.

“I’m going, I don’t have a choice, if I don’t I will be shunned.”

Wilbur thought for a second, burning a hole into a tree with a glare. “Then I will sign up as well.”

“No.” Phil and Techno said at the same time.

Scoffing, Wilbur turned to his seat, grabbing the grey woolen jacket covered with dying leaves and dried grass. Pulling it over the white shirt and black overalls he was wearing.

“What about Nikole?” Techno questioned, referring to Wilbur’s sweetheart, choosing his words carefully despite treading on dangerous ground.

“Nikole is German, Techno!” Wilbur screamed down to his brother, a sad frown replaced by a vicious snarl, “Clearly, I was wrong about your intelligence!” Techno looked at Phil with a bewildered look, confused at the statement.

Clearing his throat, Phil quiered, “What do you mean Wil?”

Breathing in a deep breath, Wilbur began his speech, “Niki is a German. The war Britain is joining is against the Germans. Wherever she goes, she gets this stare from everyone, who all think she is a spy. People who have known her for years no longer trust her with the simplest of tasks.

“The other day,” Wilbur continued, his anger flaring violently, “The other day, we were just walking to the factory, and we saw Mrs Devins had fallen over with her shopping. Niki and I went to help her. When she saw me she was fine, but when she saw Niki, she refused our help.”

Silence filled the area, the horror of trust in times of suspicion.

Phil sighed, “I’m sorry that is happening to her, it’s disgusting and it shouldn’ happen.” walking closer to Wilbur, he placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small smile, “But it doesn’t mean you have to leave” 

“Nope. I’m going, because like Techno just said, ‘I will be shunned.’” As the two others couldn’t find a different point of argument, they faded into an awkward silence. Seconds passed, the trio unable to find words to say to each other.

Swallowing, Wilbur murmured into the air, “When do you leave?”

“Next week” Phil said the same time as Techno said:

“15th September.”

Looking between the two, Wilbur sighed, “Guess I’m signing up on the day after my birthday.”

The day Phil left, all three of them never said goodbye, only telling each other to protect Tommy.

**1916**

Two years into the war, a battalion became a legend, especially the young Major from the United States that sat in command of a thousand soldiers, and the battles they won. At the moment, they were waiting in the reserve line and counting their blessings, praying to their God and reading each other’s letters from darlings.

“I have a letter for the Major.” A letter waved in the hand of a letter boy, who picked it up from the cart full of parcels and letters from the two battalions resting. Captain Aisling perked up his head. 

He plucked the letter from the letter boy's hand, his soot covered face full of classic British soldier joy. “Who’d knew tha’ the Major had a darlin’? Especially being so bloody young!”

Men crowded around their Captain, all calling at him to read the letter out loud for all to hear and for hope that Major Blade had a flaw in his tough exterior. Laughing his head off, he stepped onto an ammunition crate then proceeded to yell at them to quieten down so he could actually read.

_‘ To Major Techno Davis Blade,_

_With your recent war efforts being beyond our beliefs of a battalion, we thank you for the courage you have displayed and the victories against the Central Powers—’_

“Bloody hell, they’re jus’ lickin’ the floor he walks on, ain’ they,” shouted one soldier, only to be elbowed in the gut by a friend, who murmured a quiet silencer.

_‘—as the work you have put into pushing them away has been unfavorable._

_However, as you may be aware, it has been noted down that you are close to Private Wilbur Pandel and Private Phil Pandel. As both members of the 5th and 6th British Battalion, the two soldiers were stationed at Somme in France, along with over 3 million fellow soldiers and officers.’_

_‘’On 15th September, whil—’_

“Hey, Lieutenant, ain’t your brother at Somme as well, maybe he knows one of them, ” a soldier yelled across the crowd to a friend. Creating a discussion of whose brother was where and what they were doing.

Replying, the soldier yelped, “Yes but he isn’t in the 5th or 6th Battalion, he’s in the 2nd!”

As the talking continued, the Captain became inpatient and started to carry on reading, yearning shouts of displeasure from the troops around him.

_‘On September 15th, whilst both the 5th and 6th battalions were on duty at the front lines, a large group of German soldiers ambushed them at 1800, surprising the 2109 troops as they ate their rations. In result, the casualties were 1276, with 1011 of these soldiers passing.’_

A somber silence coated the normally rowdy men, the numbers of death reminding them so painfully of the reality of war. Away from the group, a man walked across the trenches, nodding to injured or resting men, helping to push away rat infested bodies from the pathways and chucking large pieces of stone up to no man’s land, closing in on the cluster of men.

Captain Chelem continued, too submerged in the letter to stop reading, his voice still loud but dangerously morbid.

_‘Amongst them, fought Private Phil Pandel, who managed to save 43 of his fellow soldiers in a distraction that led the Germans soldiers away from the survivors. Bravely, Private P. Pandel took the Germans far from other battalions and towards a former, now marsh, field.’_

Examining his clothes, he noted the imperfections of his looks. His boots were covered in sludge, a few rocks uncomfortably sticking in the sole underneath his already injured foot, the two golden symbolic diamonds sawn in the puke colour uniform were covered dirt and the Major’s face too worn and tired, but hope still shone in the caesious of his eyes.

Ahead of him, a group of soldiers stood around his Captain who stood with a grim expression, confused he wandered closer to them.

_‘For his told bravery from the ones he saved, Private P. Pandel has been awarded with a Medal of Valour, which has been sent to his fiancée along with a letter of lighter explanation. On September—’_

Before he could stop himself, the Major asked loudly, “Private P. Pandel? As in Private Phil Pandel?”

All the eyes turned to him, no longer full of the boyish wonders of seeing the Major who had won so many battles for the British Empire and France, but pity. His Captain didn’t jump down from the crate and become level with the rest of the soldiers, nor did he seem to want to meet his higher ranked officer in the eyes.

“It is, sir,” Lieutenant Lost replied, shifting his stance closer to his Second Lieutenant. With a leader’s glaze, the Major looked at the letter in Aisling’s hand.

Clearing his throat, he stood a little straighter and more authoritarian, “Carry on reading.”

Aisling’s head snapped up, finally looking at the Major and after a second of staring, he continued reading.

_‘Upon September 16th, we found his body at sunrise, upon further inspection, we found that he had died only an hour prior to the group of soldiers finding him. We are regretful to also say that Private Soot has not returned to camp and has been reported as M.I.A._

_Thank you for your services,_

_Commander Beiste,_

_Of His Majesty’s Army._

Every noise stopped. No rustling of wind against crusted clothes, no loud breathing of an asthmatic soldier, not even the sounds of shots being practised a couple metres away. The Captain had walked in front of the Major, nudging his numb arms and mouthing his name. He didn’t hear it.

One of his brothers doesn’t know. 

One of his brothers is missing.

One of his brothers is dead.

**1917**

There were crows eating the dead body in front of him, it was quite gruesome, some of the new Tommies, an European expression for the British Empire’s servicemen. Fitting, since most of the new soldiers could not follow any of his orders without the other soldiers telling them off.

On his left stood his superior. A Lieutenant Colonel, (a rank he is going to receive this year, since the statistics never lie). And to his right, another Major.

“We need to continue pushing,” the Colonel finally decided, turning to look at both of the Majors, Techno and Aisling, his former Captain. Hopefully asking for some advice on terrible strategy.

Aisling stepped onto the plate, quickly disagreeing with the Colonel, “Sir, with the numbers we have, I don’t think that strategy will play out as you imagine. Instead, we should send small numbers around the edges.”

“ _Well, he’s not wrong._ ” Techno thought to himself. Aisling was always a strange man, Techno had noted years ago, constantly becoming a victim of the hubris that appeared to be puppeteering him. However, he did have _some_ good ideas when it came to war.

The Colonel’s eyes lit up in amusement, bearing into Aisling, dangerously saying in a calm manner, “Are you questioning my leadership skills, Major Ailing?”

“I’m not questioning your leadership skills, sir, I am just merely giving my opinion upon the plan.”

Techno barely managed to stop himself from slapping Aisling.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter, Major,” the commander sneered, “I am the Colonel, the higher ranked officer and you will do as I say.

That, in Techno’s opinion, was too far. Looking at Aisling, he could tell his fellow felt the same. Aisling’s green eyes had flared and his mouth was shaped into a deep snarl, his fists hovered clenched by his side, as if he was ready to punch the Colonel.

“ _Why do I always have to stop arguments._ ” The voice in his head whined.

Taking a step forward, Techno spoke in a calm manner, “Sir, please may I give my thoughts?”

Narrowing his eyes, the Colonel thought for a second before saying slowly, “You may, Major Blade.”

“Sir,” Techno started, pointing to the map of the front lines beside the Officers, “If we do as Major Aisling said, we could both take the German front line and No Man's Land, which gives us an advantage in case we need to flee and an advantage upon attack.” As he talked, he gestured to the map, pointing to retreat worthy areas and the best places to fight against the opponents. The Colonel, who moved next to him, seemed to ponder this, taking his time to dramatically put a hand on his chin and nod.

After he finished, Techno took a step back from the map, allowing the Colonel to think through what he said. Sharing a look with Aisling, who rolled his eyes and mouthed, “ _suck up_.”

A smirk appeared on his face, taking his place next to his fellow Major and nudging his shoulder into Aisling’s. A minute passed, the silence stretching into an uncomfortable awkwardness that had Techno fidgeting in the dirty, blood covered uniform he wore.

The Colonel spun around to the two, a disgusting smile plastered on his face, making his sunken eyes pop out. Nodding, he started, “I think we should do what you suggested.” Techno and Aisling both sighed in relief, thankful that the massacre wouldn’t happen. But it was short lived. Continuing, the Colonel leant against the map table, still smiling, “Major Blade, is it true you have a brother?”

Whatever happiness Techno had was wiped off the slate, swallowing, “no, sir.”

“That’s interesting,” the Colonel murmured, lacing his fingers in his lap, “so you don’t know who Thomas Pandel, of His Majesty Army, is?” All the blood in Techno’s body left. Next to him, Aisling sucked in a breath, knowing full well who ‘Thomas’ is, and grabbed the back of Techno’s shirt in order to keep him upright. Meanwhile, the Colonel continued, “I heard he’s still in training at the moment, reports say he’s impulsive and cannot follow orders, even if his life depends on it. Given my rank, I can easily order him to be sent to the Western Front.”

In a moment of broken security, Techno whispered, “please, don’t.”

The Colonel smiled, a real teeth showing smile, in amusement of the Major’s pain and Aisling’s protests.

Spinning around, the senior officer turned back to the map, “Let’s do my plan, before another Pandel leaves us.”

Techno was the one this time to grab the back of a uniform, as Aisling started forward to attack the Colonel. Shaking his head at Aisling, he turned away and prepared for battle.

They lost so many men.

**1919**

**APRIL, 6 MONTHS AFTER 15th NOVEMBER**

“My dear, stop slouching, it is your sister's birthday, you could do her the favour of acting proper,” the insisting voice of Mrs Blade called out. Techno knew he was being informal, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Especially a dinner so mundane as this.

The kind voice of his sister quickly jumped to his defense, “Mother, I don’t mind, Techno can slouch if he wants to.”

Looking up from his plate of untouched food, Techno met his sister’s innocent eyes sitting opposite him, her face slightly smeared with the crumbs of her birthday shortbread and gave her a small, returned smile. Next to her, their mother tutted in disapproval, the disappointment darkening her blue eyes.

Techno hated it, the constant look. Most of the time, he hoped one day she would stop, but every day it carried on. Not that she understood, not that she has been to war and it’s almost as if she had not seen the deaths of so many. He missed the days when her face was wrinkled by her smile and the blue of her eyes resembled the sky fading to night.

Instead there was that voice, which continued to hiss at him.

_‘She would have preferred that you had died than come back like this’_

A thought Techno could agree with. He knew something had changed with the war, he no longer liked to get up like he used to, preferring to sleep comfortably for long hours of the day and rising only when the maid force fed him food that would later come back up.

Consuming him, the voices continued. Talking about the war, the deaths, the aftermath, and the murders.

“Techno, are you alright?” his sister murmured to him across the table, for a second he wondered why she was asking but then he felt the heat that travelled up his body and onto his face.

Techno stood up quickly, blood rushing back to the rest of his body uncomfortably and making his body shake. He turned his head to his family. “I- I need to be alone for a bit.”

Not giving them enough time to reply, he stumbled out of the room and raced through the large house in the hope of freedom somewhere in the great forests that had surrounded the house. He sprinted around trees, passing a group of familiar boulders, a creek filled with the rainwater from the night before and continued running until he was near the clearing.

His pacing became a slow walk, allowing him time to catch his breath before he entered it.

Pushing away a cluster of vines, Techno walked through, staring at an area of dead leaves lying on the floor. Trying hard to ignore the boulder with the initials of his friends he etched four years ago. Instead, he chose to sit against the tree furthest away from them.

He sat there for hours, slipping in and out of the lightest sleep, one he had perfected whilst in the trenches. Every rustle of leaves, every bird song and even the sound of flies, made him open his eyes and glance for danger.

Closing his eyes for the hundredth time, he began to relax along with the sounds, letting his body to merge itself with the tree and become one with nature. But dreams were never truly the same as they once were.

It started off in a field, the same one he walked alongside those many years ago with the others, which they did nearly every month before everything. There were bees flying about, minding their business and collecting sweet nectar for the hive they were to return to. Above where Techno sat, the sky was the classic, bright oxygen blue of a summer season, not a cloud in sight as the sun shone hard against the floor.

 _‘Why is the sky blue again?’_ the voice came from beside him, loud and annoying as it always was.

A sigh replied to him, _‘Techno has told us five times, Tommy, because of oxygen.”_

 _‘Sorry I can’t remember everything like you, W̵̧̖̏̈́i̵̥͘l̴͔͒b̸̗͛̍u̷̹͕͝r̷͍̽̊!’_ the voice replied, becoming scratchy at the end. Techno turned to the direction of the voice, but there was nothing there. Shrugging, he turned back to the field, expecting to see the swaying wheat crops and weeds in between.

Techno wrapped the quilt closer to his body as he tried to ignore the hollow feeling of his stomach that groaned at him to eat food. His room was unused, except from the curtain drawn bed placed in the middle of the room and the nest of dirty blankets Techno had made. It was comfortable and quiet, no noise except from the rumbling from his gut.

Beside him on the cabinet, sat three different flowers in their own respected pots, three he could not take his eyes off. A green zinnia, a yellow tulip and poppy. Green, yellow and red. Three different flowers. The time seemed to pass rapidly, the light of the room brightening and darkening, all Techno did was stare at the flowers.

The room lightened as a new day passed before swiftly fading into night. Another day, another tomorrow. He needed to keep watching the flowers.

Another day, another tomorrow. 

He blinked. He shouldn’t have. Now the tulip and zinnia were a dying brown, the bright colours crumpled into the contracting death. The wonderful zinnia had lost all its leaves and crushed into a small ball of decay, but the tulip had lost only two leaves, leaving three feuillemort leaves behind. Left behind, the poppy dropped down into a quiet depression, the light barely reaching its leaves and denying the flower any hope of returning back to full strength. 

Techno frowned, why was the red poppy dropping? He made sure to make sure it was fine before he slept last night, did the rain water not help? Grabbing the handfuls of blankets on top of his body and lifting them with unnatural amounts of effort, as if the weight was the same as a stack of brick. 

Letting himself rest for a couple of seconds, the need to lie back down suffocated him. The poppy needed help, and Techno swore he always would to the other flowers. So he swung his legs around the edge of his bed, his feet touching the shiny, polish floorboards for the first time in months. Trying to push himself up, the abandoned bones of his feet and legs ached as the destroyed muscles were put back into use, and putting his hands either side of him, Techno pushed against the bed in order to stand up. Only to fall back down again.

Gritting his teeth as his weak arms hurt when he tried to stand up again, Techno kept his eyes on the poppy, which stem dropped further and further into itself at every one of his failed attempts to stand.

Eventually, with shaky legs and numb to the bone feet, Techno held onto the cabinet and pushed away the other flower pots with skeletal looking hands, letting his feet get used to the blood rushing back to them. The poppy’s head turned to him, inviting him to reach out with his right hand and touch the delicate petals surrounding the centre. 

It was sticky, Techno noted as he pulled away his hands, only to have a red liquid web itself upon his hand. Techno knew this liquid and knew it well. Clinging to his fingers, he tried to wipe the remains off onto his trousers, desperately. Tears fell from his eyes as he did, his mouth releasing whimpers as he wiped, and wiped, and wiped.

Techno had become Lady Macbeth, unable to wipe the spot from his hands and the pain of his deeds haunting his sleep. However, his deeds were not of ambition or murder, but the family he left behind.

So he wiped, and he wiped and he wiped _and he wiped_.

“Techno?”

His body was on its feet before Techno's head could catch up to him, causing an orchestra of drums to go off in his head. Vision blurred, the green and bright colours merged into each other, causing his legs to shake violently and his already pounding head to scream at him.

A pair of pale hands appeared in his focus, wrapping around Techno’s own shaking hands and squeezing them. The sound of someone’s voice broke through the loud buzzing that ringed in his ears, starting to ground him back to reality.

“Techno.”

His vision focused quickly, letting him meet pale blue eyes.

The poppy.

In front of him, stood the poppy, accompanied by a friend. The poppy was as tall as Techno now, just a few centimeters shorter, and with longer hair and a broken posture, Techno knew he had missed his brother growing up. A mixture of fear and worry glowed in the poppy’s eyes as he searched the face of the other.

Breathing heavily, Techno whispers to the other, “Poppy?”

“What? No, it’s Tom, Techno,” the poppy murmured, grabbing the sides of Techno’s face in between his hands and pushing away the fallen strands of brown hair that had fallen into Techno’s eyes. 

The poppy— no... Tom gave a wary smile at his brother, quickly turning to the boy next to him, who had floppy brown hair and a boyish face, whispering to him, “Go tell the others to wait a bit, don’t tell them who it is.”

“Are— Are there other people?” Techno panicked, pushing himself against the tree behind him and curling back into himself. Tom shook his head, giving his brother a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry it’s just me, Wilbur, Tubbo and two other people,” he said, taking a step away from his brother and allowing him to breathe some fresh air.

In the corner of his eye, Techno saw movement from the entrance of the opening, revealing an anxious Tubbo, a petite young girl and a tall looming figure with dark brown hair.

“I’m sorry Tommy,” Tubbo started, “I tried to stop them but Philippa is quite persistent.” his face full of defeat as he spoke, his eyes skittish and jumpy, making Techno feel sympathy for the boy. The looming figure, who Techno refused to meet the eyes off, stared holes into Techno, he could feel it.

Tom, who was looking between the man and Techno, walked over to Tubbo, grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the clearing, knowing full well that his lost time would be caught up with later.

The girl squealed, rushing over to the mentioned man and grabbing his leg with a tight hug. Techno, who had no idea who the child was or how to deal with children, put his hands above his head in fear of touching it. A pair of shining green eyes and a head of bright blonde hair looked up at him, hitting Techno with a memory of man lost in the memory of those he left behind.

“Uncle Techno!” she started, jumping on her feet in indestructible joy, “I’ve heard so much about you!” Her words only confused Techno more, but yet he gave the girl a weak smile and listened to her tales, “My mother says that if I were to ever meet you, I would have to be extremely nice, but she never told me why. I think it is because of all the hurt people did when I was a baby!”

The hurt people?

 _The war, you fool. Even Kristin told a_ child _to be wary of you. Pathetic._

His face must have revealed what the voice had told him, as the now oldest brother said with a loving smile, “Philippa, my darling, could you go with Uncle Tom and Tubbo, you can play with Uncle Techno later.” 

Pouting, the girl whined her goodbyes to the two adults before chasing after her third uncle. 

Realising his hands were still up, he lowered them and began examining his friend. Wilbur had grown into his looks, his face was slimmer, losing the baby fat that once was there, with much sharper features, he had grown to tower of Techno by many inches and his build had destroyed itself into becoming leaned. But his eyes were haunted, deeply bruised bags rested under them and the cheerful brown had become the bark of the dying leaves underfoot.

“The war has messed both of us quite badly,” Wilbur stated jokingly.

Deeply buried within him, a happiness sprung forward making him give a low chuckle, “Yes, yes it did.”

Walking to the boulders, Wilbur pointed to the initials, “I never knew what you were doing that day, then again I don’t think anyone knew what to say.” The happiness he felt vanished, replaced with dangerously quiet anger.

“I thought you were M.I.A.”

“Forgot about the bluntness,” Wilbur chuckled, “And for your information, they found me a day after they sent that letter. In a bomb crater, as well as another part of me.” He raised his right arm, the sleeve dangling in the wind, with no limb inside it. Techno wanted to be shocked, but he knew the reality of war.

“Well, guess we all lost something then.” He stoically said, Wilbur turned to him with furrowed eyebrows, scanning his body for any imperfections. Techno rolled his eyes, “You lost your arm and I lost my ability to eat.”

Silence filled the clearing, awkward and unnatural, Techno wished he could have redone it.

“Who's the girl?” he finally asked.

Wilbur gave a short and dry laugh, “Who do you think?”

“When was she born,” Techno asked nervously.

“A couple months into war, Phil never told anyone,” he replied, wiping at the corner of his eye. Techno’s heart broke, everything in the past few years, this is one of the worst events, "decided to name her Philippa Pandel in honour."

“She lost her father.”

“And Phil lost his life.” Wilbur answered, properly meeting his brother’s eyes with a far away look.

Techno nodded, staring at Wilbur with the same intensity, “And Phil lost his life.”

Not even a second passed when Wilbur strode forward and pulled Techno in for a hug, a ghostly pair of arms wrapping around them both.

Decades later, their descendants told their children about the time when a good man, who would have been a great father, lost his life and had to leave three brothers behind. On 15th of September, 1916.

**Author's Note:**

> Names of characters:
> 
> Techno Davis Blade is a nod to his IRL name Dave.  
> The Captain/Major’s name, Aisling, means Dream.  
> Lieutenant Lost was a play on “NotFound”  
> Commander Beiste means Commander Beast.  
> British people pronounce Lieutenant differently from Americans, saying lef-tenent instead of loot-tenant. This is because you stand to the left of the Lieutenant. 
> 
> AGES:  
> SECTION 1 = Techno 5, Wilbur 6, Phil 8. SECTION 2 = Techno 10, Wilbur 11, Phil 13, Tommy 6 SECTION 3 = Techno 12, Wilbur 13, Phil 15, Tommy 8 SECTION 4 =. Techno 16, Wilbur 17, Phil 19, Tommy 12. SECTION 5 =Techno 18, Wilbur 19, Phil 21, Tommy 14 6. SECTION 6 =Techno 20, Wilbur 21, Phil †, Tommy 16


End file.
